


The Mysterious Benedict Society and the New Adventure

by WriterMills



Series: The New Mysterious Benedict Society [1]
Category: The Mysterious Benedict Society - Trenton Lee Stewart
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:04:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4681397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterMills/pseuds/WriterMills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The story continues....</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. For Every Entrance, an Exit

**For Every Entrance, an Exit**

Reynie Muldoon, or Reynard as he now went by, strolled across the green grass of Stonetown Cemetery, thinking about what the others will be like. It had been a little over 20 years since they last spoke, and during those years, Reynard had wished to see the others, but never did he think that this day would be the first in 20 years that they would see each other. He wondered how Kate was doing, and if she still requested for people to call her "The Great Kate Weather Machine". Or if Sticky was still as bald as the day they met. Or if Constance was as stubborn and cranky. He chuckled, recalling past memories, like the fiasco at Number Two and Rhonda's wedding, or when they found out that Constance was only two when they solved their first mystery. His face saddened as he approached the grave. The casket was being lowered into the ground, and Reynard looked around the crowd of people. He spotted Kate and Sticky almost immediately. They hadn't changed too much in the past several years. They both were crying. It took him a little longer to find Constance. She wasn't crying like the others, though. She was silent, and tense. She was cradling a tiny sphere. It was a little gem that was given to her as an adoption gift. He recalled when they had to use it to solve a clue, which she hated when they attempted to break it. Reynard now looked upon the lowered casket. People were throwing all types of funeral flowers on the top of it. Kate, using her trusty old bucket and rope, let down her little multi-tool that was given to her on one of her birthdays. Reynard was shocked to see that she still had the bucket and tools. Next was Sticky, who didn't really have anything to place in the grave, but he gently tossed a little tube of hair remover, while Constance threw her little gem in. Reynard tossed in a little tiny pocket-sized book that he had received when one of his books became a New York Times Best-Seller. Slowly, people began to leave the cemetery. When it was only Sticky, Kate, Constance, and Reynard, they came together in a little huddle and cried while hugging each other. When they stopped crying enough to speak, they came apart, and said hello to each other, and said how they all missed each other. Finally, they decided that they would catch up back at the old house, when they weren't on the verge of bursting into tears again. They said their "see you later"s, and left. Reynard, however, stayed. While they were crying, the cemetery workers had piled dirt on top of the casket, filling the grave. Reynard took a solitary patch of green plaid fabric, and placed it on the fresh mound of dirt. "Thanks for the adventures, Mr. Benedict" he said as he walked away from the grave, and toward his vehicle.

 


	2. Theories and Grudges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues....

Reynard pulled up to the house. He hadn't been back here in a long time. He turned off the car, sitting silently in his seat for a moment. He didn't want to cry again, he needed to be strong for those who couldn't. Reynard got out of the car, and locked it. He was halfway to the front door when the door opened, and Number Two rushed out, crying. She grabbed Reynard in a tight hug, which left him surprised. Number Two hadn't been one much for showing emotions, but then again, Mr. Benedict was one of the few people closest to her. He awkwardly put his arms around her, patting her back softly. He hadn't been particularly close to Number Two, but he was the closest out of the four adults. They slowly walked back inside, where Rhonda came to the door. She took the sobbing Number Two from him, without saying a word to him, and walked her over to where the sofa was, and sat her down. Rhonda gave him a cold stare from the sofa. They hadn't parted on good terms, the last time he was in town. The group had been having a reunion, as they usually did every 5 or so years. He had to leave early, telling the group it was something about work. Rhonda confronted him as he was leaving. She demanded to know how work could possibly be more important than friends, than family. He simply shrugged and left. He had no doubt that she was furious with him, yet he decided that there was nothing he could do about it, and went about finding something to drink.

Grabbing a glass of cola, Reynard set about to find Kate, Sticky, and Constance. He was sure that they would be together, most likely reminiscing about old stories they had of Mr. Benedict. After searching through the house, he found them in Mr. Benedict's office. He was surprised to find them not sharing stories about Mr. Benedict, but in fact rifling through his desk drawers, file cabinets, and books. He was beyond shocked and demanded to know what the hell they thought they were doing. Constance stated the reason. They thought that Mr. Benedict wasn't actually dead, and that the person they buried, was his twin brother, Ledroptha Curtain, and that they had switched, some months prior to the death. They apparently had this theory for several months now, ever since the supposed switch was made. Reynard asked why he wasn't included in it, and Kate simply shrugged and said that they assumed he would have been too busy to help them. Reynard began questioning them at this point, asking questions like "Why were you crying at the funeral then?" and "What evidence have you got to prove this?". Sticky broke his silence, and answered the questions. They had not wanted to raise suspicion of anything, especially if they were being watched, so therefore they had to act as if they knew nothing, and cry. The only evidence they had so far, was what they had witnessed prior to the death. Mr. Benedict didn't fall asleep as easily when he laughed, not to mention the fact that his behavior was quite different. They had questioned Number Two and Rhonda on this, although they both denied anything being different about Mr. Benedict. Kate explained that they were now looking through his materials to see if they could find any evidence to support their theory. Reynard, now starting to believe them and joining in the search, recalled aloud how most of the clues that were ever given to them were in riddles. Could this possibly be a new mystery that Mr. Benedict wanted them to solve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, I have decided to continue writing this! Yes-I know my writing is terrible, and this chapter doesn't even end properly. But, what the hell, I'll write the way I write. If you have any criticism, I will totally gladly accept it.


	3. The Hate and Love of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Story Continues, as usual...

Reynard began to comb through Mr. Benedict’s journals, and notes, searching for a riddle, for anything that would support their idea. They needed more evidence to convince Number Two and Rhonda, and they were certainly going to need their help if there was a mystery to solve. Eventually, the people at Mr. Benedict’s wake began to leave. Reynard got up to leave too, and Sticky asked him where he was going. “Guys… This has been great. It really has, having some fun searching for clues in the last hour. But I need to get going. I have an early flight in the morning.” Reynard said. “What? You aren’t even going to stay for a little while longer? What about the reading of the will?” Sticky stated, surprised at Reynard. He had been the closest to Mr. Benedict out of any of them. “I have a job, you know. And a family. I can’t just up and leave for several days.” Reynard said coldly. He gathered his things, and walked back into the living room, where Number Two was quietly sleeping on Rhonda’s lap. “I’m leaving now” Reynard whispered to Rhonda. She didn’t reply, but simply glared at him. Reynard shrugged it off, and grabbed his coat from the brown wooden coat rack that stood beside the front door. He walked out towards the silver-greyish rental car that he had. As he was fumbling for his keys inside his jacket pocket, Rhonda came bursting through the door, and walked towards Reynard, fuming mad. “YOU SON OF A BITCH,” she screamed at him, “HOW COULD YOU LEAVE LIKE THIS. SPENDING ONE DAY FOR THE FUNERAL OF THE MAN WHO WAS THE FATHER YOU DIDN’T HAVE. HOW COULD YOU LEAVE SO SOON. INSIDE THAT HOUSE IS YOUR FAMILY, YOU ASSHOLE. WHY ARE YOU SO COld heart ed I just  don’t under stand …” Rhonda’s voice trailed off as she fell to her knees, and began to weep silently. Reynard looked up from where Rhonda was on the lawn, and saw Sticky, Kate, Constance, and Number Two all watching from the front steps. Number Two ran to Rhonda, to comfort her, and Reynard quickly got in his car, to avoid confrontation from any of the others. He backed out of the driveway, and sped off.

He arrived back at his hotel, a Waldorf Astoria, and checked into his room. As he sat on the bed, undressing, he began to cry. Not a silent one, like Rhonda, but a powerful yowling cry that shook his body. He never wanted his quiet lifestyle. He never wanted the suburban family, with his wife, Deborah. But he knew it was the most realistic life. It was a stupid little game he and the others played as kids. Not something that could pay for a house, or apartment, or food. Reynard knew he had taken the right path on life. He was safe, he didn’t have to worry about people chasing after him. He didn’t have to be on the run, unlike Kate and Constance. Reynard stopped crying, and just lay there, on the bed. Not sleeping, just resting for a moment…

He got up, and grabbed his phone from the little nightstand that stands beside the bed in a hotel room. He called his wife, and going straight to voicemail. He left a message, “Hey honey, it’s Reynard. I’ll be on the first flight back out there, and I should be home in time for lunch. Goodnight hon, miss you.” He set an alarm on his phone, to wake him up in time for the flight, and placed it back on the nightstand, right next to the clock-radio. He dressed into pyjamas, and got into the bed. Reynard turned off the room light, and went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The flight got in at around 10:30 am, the next morning, and Reynard drove his blue 2009 Honda Civic, which had been parked in the airport’s parking garage, to his home in White Plains, New York. As he neared his house on the street, he noticed some red lettering on the house, just above the garage door. Pulling the car onto the driveway, Reynard read the blood-red words. “ _ WELCOME HOME DADDY _ “, the letters read. He smiled, and pushed the button on the garage door opener. The second the garage door began to open, he heard screaming, and he rushed to stop the garage door from opening further. He repeatedly pressed the button, until he noticed that he had broken it with his vice-like grip on the opener. He pushed open the door to his car, and sped over to the door, attempting to pull it down, to stop whatever was causing the screaming, but the garage door’s motor was stronger than Reynard’s muscles, and instead of stopping what it was, Reynard’s face and the front of his body were met with a spray of blood and viscera from a human body. After wiping the material from his eyes, Reynard saw the gruesome scene. Somehow, the garage door motor was rigged to a contraption that tore open the bodies of his family, who were tied up in their sleep. The entire garage was covered in the spray of blood and intestines. Reynard gagged at the sight, but noticed that in all the red on the floor, there was one spot, with one of those folded cards-the ones that say your name at table places in formal setting- that was completely untouched by the blood, as if it were sprayed with NeverWet. Reynard stumbled over to the card, and fell to his knees. He picked up the card, and read what was on it. 

“ _ How about a round of that childish game you used to play? What was it again? Oh, yes,  _

**_Solve The Mystery_ ** _. _

_ -S.M. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I realise my terrible writing. I welcome any and all criticism.


End file.
